


The One Where Brian Has A Giant Vagina

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon, Drama, Episode Related, Future, Gap Filler, Het, Parody, Romance, Season/Series 05, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-20
Updated: 2005-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-27 14:01:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12082506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: No, really. Sort of 513-centric; read at your own risk.





	The One Where Brian Has A Giant Vagina

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

_Dedicated to 'darksylvia' (happy birthday!), who egged me on ... though I admit, Shawn Postoffice's lame defending of Cowlip's even lamer excuse for a series finale really pushed me into the home stretch._

* * *

Justin thinks that things can't get much better when Brian finally says, quietly and frankly, "I love you". Twice in a row, even. He thinks that returning empty-handed from the depths of Hollywood, breaking up with his on-again-off-again lover of nearly five years over something as vague and fucked up as a difference in principles, of all things, and then watching Babylon go ka-boom is all part of the storm cloud hanging overhead, and that these three little words are the long-awaited silver lining. He's pretty sure that life can't get much better than this. 

He starts to wonder when he began to hate being right about things.

The big, flowery gestures come first: marriage. A house out in the countryside. More I-love-yous and long nights filled with soft lovemaking and warm cuddling. At first, it's fun, this sudden, unadulterated monogamy. It's what he always wanted, he tells himself, and all of their friends - their family, really, as long as Justin has known them - assures him that it is. He enjoys the newfound respect he sees in each of their faces over coffee and waffles at the diner; even Hunter, it seems, is less snarky, now that his ever getting to suck Brian Kinney's cock has become even more of an impossibility. 

Justin feels bad when he stares at himself in the mirror one morning and admits that he's already sort of tired of this. It feels like a facade, like any minute now, the spell will be broken, and the Real Brian Kinney will wake up and step firmly back into reality. He finds that he hopes it will happen sooner rather than later.

It doesn't. Much to Justin's dismay, of course; nonetheless, life with Stepford Brian really begins to take its toll. The Real Brian, HIS Brian, was always an unapologetic nymphomaniac, a passionate lover disguising himself as a shrewd, calculating asshole, who could don both roles seamlessly and step out of one and into another at the drop of a hat. This latest incarnation is just bland in comparison. 

"I love you," he murmurs for what is probably the ten-millionth time that day, peppering Justin's forehead with tiny, chaste kisses as they lay spooned against each other in bed. It used to be that Justin couldn't be in the same room with Brian without the other man grabbing his cock or tossing him against a mattress or wall or whichever surface happened to be available at the time, and he misses it. And then he sits up, appalled when he realizes that he's actually starting to think of the days when Brian Kinney was Liberty Avenue's Token Sex God in past-tense.

"Brian, let me ask you something," he says seriously. "When was the last time I had your dick up my ass? I mean, like, the last time you were really pounding into me? Three weeks, three days, seven hours, and forty-nine minutes, Brian!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with desperation and going a bit shrill. "Don't you think we need to rectify that?" 

Brian strokes his arm (lovingly, Justin notes with vague disgust; Brian's eyes are practically dewy, in fact). "Sounds like somebody hasn't been cuddled enough today," he replies, his voice husky. He reaches for his lover, but Justin balks and flinches away. 

"Brian, I'm serious," he snaps. "You're turning into a gigantic lesbian, and it's scaring me." 

"Oh, my Prince," Brian sighs. "I do hope you'll refrain from using derogatory terminology to refer to our penis-rejecting female friends. When we get into our new home, I want it to be filled with love, not hate."

"I wasn't talking about Mel and Linds," Justin groans, his head in his hands. "I was referring to you!" But Brian seems unphased; after several more attempts to snuggle, Justin gives up trying to be in the same room with him and goes to sleep on the couch.

*

Justin realizes he's desperate when he ends up going to his and Brian's mutual friends for advice. He listens politely to Michael and Ben assuring him tritely that everything will be all right, but files it away under 'well-meaning bullshit' - experience has simply taught him far too well. He's keenly interested to hear what Emmett and Ted have to say, however; particularly Ted, who by current count has unwittingly sabotaged more relationships than Justin will probably ever have.

"I don't really get it, baby," Emmett says, choosing his words carefully. "You've spent all this time trying to get Brian to see how much you cared about him and how good you would be for each other. And now you want to break up?"

"Pretty much," Justin replies, and then adds, "you guys haven't seen him when we're alone together. He's totally turned into a completely different person. I loved Brian Kinney, the Unapologetic Asshole," he sighs. "Brian the Dyke just isn't the guy I said I'd marry." 

Emmett nods sympathetically. "In that case," Ted replies, "there's really only one thing to do." He pauses for dramatic effect. "Become the last person he'd expect you to."

"I don't get it," Emmett says, looking confused.

"You do all of the things you know drives the old Brian Kinney up the wall," Ted explains. "The things that made him grit his teeth, only intentionally and all at once. You'll have him high-tailing it to the backroom in no time."

"Smoke him out," Justin muses. "Hey, that's not a bad idea actually." Ted looks mildly offended, but Justin, resolve now firmly in place, hardly notices. He plunks a five down on the diner table and slings his jacket over his shoulder. "I think I know how to take care of this," he says when he's halfway to the door. "Thanks, guys."

*

Justin gets his chance to put his sabotage plan into motion when Brian breezes into the loft, imploring him to go grocery shopping. "All we have in the refrigerator is beer and poppers," he complains.

"All the essentials?" Justin says hopefully, but Brian is busy checking the contents of the freezer. 

They're turning down the bread aisle - a section of the store that Brian usually fervently avoids - when Justin has an idea. "You know what I really think we should get?" he asks, making sure to add the whiny cadence to his voice that seemed much more natural and endearing when he was seventeen. "Cinnamon rolls," he exclaims. "Some nice, big, juicy, extra-fattening cinnamon rolls. And I want 2% milk," he continues, beaming widely at Brian for good measure. "That's really the only way to eat one." 

To his dismay, Brian doesn't so much as flinch. "Whatever you want, pudding-pop," he says warmly, adding two boxes of cinnamon rolls to the cart. Unnerved, Justin makes a point to stop in every aisle and pick up something ridiculously high in fat, until the cart looks like it belongs to Willy Wonka. He's just finished tossing in a bag of double-stuffed chocolate-flavored Oreos when he realizes that it's not working. "I'm going to go home and eat all this in one sitting and get hideously fat," he threatens, a bit desperate at this point. 

Brian beams (lovingly) at him and grasps Justin's face gently between his hands, planting a kiss on his scowling mouth. "Oh, lambskin, it doesn't matter to me what you look like. I'll love you no matter what." 

Justin leaves Brian at the checkout line and goes to sulk in the car.

*

Over the course of the next week, Justin feels like he was getting absolutely nowhere. In fact, Brian's lesbianism seems to reach even more dangerously high proportions. First it's the Pottery Barn catalogue left in all-too-plain-sight on the kitchen table, where his mom notices it and starts offering decorating suggestions. Justin spends the night at Daphne's, and returns to Brian baking cookies with Gus. The loft starts to be affected, as well; Justin didn't think he ever had any problem with potpourri, until small, cutesy containers of it start showing up strategically on top of the microwave, on the back of the toilet, and even on Brian's bedside table.

"Let's go to Woody's," he suggests, mostly because the "rose gardenia" scent of the candles Brian has recently purchased - apparently, the Pottery Barn catalogue wasn't just for show - are making him woozy, and also since Brian has seemingly stopped purchasing hard liquor, and Justin is in desperate need of a drink. 

The whole gang is there, a fact that doesn't phase Justin, until Brian stands and raps softly on his glass with a piece of silverware. "Attention, everyone," he beams; Woody's goes silent, every patron's gaze now on their table. Justin finds the effect eerie. 

"This is my beautiful, talented boyfriend, Justin Taylor," Brian says, holding out his free hand to encourage Justin to join him; Justin ignores it. "He has graciously agreed to marry me," Brian continues, "and I just want to let everybody know that he's making me the happiest man on Earth by doing so. Justin is the light of my life," he says. "My Sunshine on a cloudy day." Justin takes a long swig of alcohol, disappointed to find that Brian is still talking when it's gone. He's out the door when Brian initiates a swooning karaoke version of "Wind Beneath My Wings".

*

Justin purposely finds other places to be besides the loft for several days afterwards. When he and Brian do meet up there again, he's pleasantly surprised to find his lover in a frisky mood. "Let's do it," Brian murmurs against his neck, and Justin quickly helps divest himself of his clothing, then reaches over to assist Brian with his.

"Aaahh!" he shrieks when Brian's underwear pools around his ankles. "What the hell is that?" He points a shaking finger at Brian's latest accoutrement.

"It's my new vagina, honeypie," Brian simpers. "Isn't it lovely? I got it for you. I thought you would like it," he explains. 

"What the fuck made you think that?" Justin sputters. "I'm gay, Brian! I like dick, remember? I'm a big, queer, cock-loving homo, and I thought you were, too. I thought the crux of our relationship was based on your being unapologetically oversexual and my pretending not to notice that you really cared about me as more than just a bed toy, deep-down, but now ... now you're just a chick with a dick!" he exclaims. "Where IS your dick, anyway?"

Brian motions to the countertop with a (loving) nod of his head. Justin turns and stares at the jar, holding the last - impressive, which makes the current reality all the more frustrating - remnants of Brian's masculinity. He squints with horror at the label: _Property of Justin Taylor_. "It can't be ..." Justin whispers in horror. He turns back to Brian, who gives him a coy smile.

"Let's make love. Just go easy on me, okay, my darling?" he implores. "It's my first time after all, in a way." 

Justin blinks. "Whoa," he finally croaks out. "Yeah, um, no. Fuck this," he says. "I'm going to New York." He crosses the room and pulls up a suspiciously packed duffel bag - a mainstay of his unintentionally nomadic lifestyle ever since he came out - from behind the couch. "Don't call." He reaches into the bag and pulls out his cell phone, deleting Brian's information from speed dial on his way to the nearest bus stop.

*

"So I think I'll have him get run over by the bus," Randy Harrison says, leaning back and popping his knuckles. "It'll be a huge mess - blood like, everywhere," he muses. "And Brian will sing at his funeral, sell the loft, and move up to Canada with the munchers. Mel will move out when she comes home and finds Brian and Lindsay making out on the couch, and they'll raise their two children in the happy, heterosexual nuclear family that they both always secretly wanted." He sighs in satisfaction and turns around. "What do you guys think about that?"

Back-to-back on the floor, arms pinioned behind them and tape over their mouths, Ron Cowen and Daniel Lipman whimper.


End file.
